


The Lesson

by poorbasil



Category: Crubio - Fandom, Marco Rubio - Fandom, Political RPF - US 21st c., Ted Cruz - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crubio, Insecure Marco, M/M, Student!Marco, professor!Ted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poorbasil/pseuds/poorbasil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU in which Ted is a young professor and Marco is an insecure, mediocre student in dire need of assistance or he's going to be expelled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> based on this anon message from my tumblr:
> 
> you know how ted taught law at ut austin for a while? ever since I read an interview with a former student of his, I’ve been secretly craving a young professor x college student crubio au. irl I usually find such scenarios pretty gross b/c of the power imbalance and whatnot, but stern yet caring prof!ted and adorably enamoured student!marco (who might have been a bit of a slacker in high school but is now learning the meaning of ~discipline)? yes pls
> 
> A note: Appearance wise, picture Princeton/Harvard Ted, age 25/26. Marco is 18/19, so the age difference is not too bad.  
> Also, 10/10 recommend listening to the song Don't Stand So Close to Me by The Police because it reminds me of this.

Marco glanced up over hooded eyebrows, seeing as a pale hand swiftly plopped a sheet of paper on his desk. The edges of the paper fluttered a bit before settling on the wooden tabletop. He didn't need to look at the tiny red letter scribbled on the top left hand corner to know what it said.

They were all the same.

Marco sighed, lifting his head to bring the paper into view. He always kept onto that small glimmer of hope that, maybe this time, it would be different. It was foolish of him to be clinging to that ounce of impossible circumstance, it clouded his judgment and ultimately left him in a worse state than he would be had he just accepted the truth.

The letter stared up at him, its linear characteristics seemingly mocking him, the strokes were sharp and jagged, Marco could tell it was hastily jotted down, his professor not even sparing a second extra on his failed exam.

Well, what exactly did Marco expect from submitting a test that was half blank? He wouldn't have wasted the energy reading through it either. He was about to stuff the dejected paper into his bag but his eyes caught notice of the words scrawled across the bottom of the page, nearly illegible, not that his professor had the best handwriting to begin with, although that seemed to be the only fault the man had. But this scribble was different, it was fast, a water-droplet sized blot of ink was puddled underneath the first letter, as if the professor paused for a moment before continuing, as if he was, considering his words perhaps? Marco wasn't sure what to think of it as he reread the one sentence at the bottom of the page, maybe he was thinking to hard into it, but he tended to notice little things like that, a skill that served no purpose to facilitate his grade in Professor Cruz's class.

He reread the words one more time, apprehension and nervousness playing at his senses and he refused to allow himself to panic, stifling the sensation tickling uncomfortably at the corners on his nerves. Now was not the time for that.

 

_"MEET ME AFTER MY LAST CLASS. NO EXCEPTIONS."_

 

Marco swallowed, contemplating those words, tumbling them over and over again in his head. Was he going to be kicked out of the class? The class he specifically told his academic counselor he would not fail? The class he needed to pass or else he would break his academic probation and be withdrawn from the school?

No, the professor would not be so cruel, he surely was advised prior about Marco's situation? He wouldn't just kick him out of the class would he?

Marco wasn't sure. He didn't really know much about Professor Cruz, or rather, he didn't really know anything about the professor seeing as he was too shy to ever ask questions during class or to the man afterwards. There was something about Professor Cruz that made Marco's cheeks heat up like a black shirt on a summer day. His skin would get clammy when he so much as thought about contributing in the class participation. In fact, he hadn't said one word to the man aside from the standard, "present" during roll call.

It wasn't that he was afraid of the Professor, not intimidated either, he just- he didn't know what it was but the idea of having Professor Cruz's full attention directed on him left him queasy.

Marco didn't want to think about it. He avoided addressing the Professor formally all this time but now, with that note, a request for a one-on-one meeting, there was no excuse for him to irrationally concoct anymore.

Marco shook his head, folding up the test and placing it in his pocket. It was probably best that he didn't lose the exam with the note, like he surely would were he to bury it in his bag with the rest of his exams he was too disappointed to look at.

* * *

 

Ted let out a soft sigh as the last of his students exited the room. He had specifically stated at the start of all of his classes for students to refrain from staying afterwards as he had a prior engagement. That "prior engagement" was with his student, one Marco Rubio, per Ted's request.

Ted had been informed about Marco. It was a relatively small school, and the boy's counselor had met with Ted to discuss Marco's, for lack of a better word, unsavory relationship with academia.

He was a C student at best throughout high school, his grades just average enough as to not get placed on suspension from the football team but by no means superior. He was just average, the same as so many other young students that passed through his classroom door just to run out with silent tears streaming down their faces when Ted failed them.

He wasn't the teacher who favored students. He wasn't swayed by tears or phone calls from parents, even sit-ins at the president's office did little to sway him into bumping a failing student's grade. As a young professor, he had to set the ground rules, make it know that Ted Cruz yields to no man, especially punks straight out of high school who think setting their textbooks down on their desks qualifies as studying.

Then why had he taken a liking to Marco of all students? It was out of character for him to sympathize with his students in such a way. Of course, he was always there to provide encouragement and enthusiasm, just, it was limited. He had a persona to keep up after all.

He looked around the empty classroom, noting the stray papers that littered the floor around the trash can and the two green pencils decorated with smiley faces left on one of the center desks. He stared at the pencils intently, possibly too intently, as if his stare would cause them to roll of the indentation on the desk where they were currently resting, neglected by their owner.

No one ever picked up their missing pencils, he thought with a sigh as he made to walk over to them.

Ted didn't hear the sound of his classroom door creaking open, or the soft tapping of footsteps, or even the quiet gasp of breath as Marco stopped abruptly in his tracks, not so subtly admiring the sloping curve of his professor's ass as the man bent over to pick up something from the floor.

A moment passed.

"Uh-"

"Huh?" Ted spun around at the noise, eyes widening when they landed on the boy standing just a couple steps in front of the door, the two pencils, which had fallen when he made a bad grab at them, were clenched upright in his hand, their little plastic wrapped smiley faces staring at Marco, who stared back with a perplexed expression he quickly tried to morph into a face of indifference.

"Um," he stuttered, Ted's eyes looking straight at him, pencils raised.

"I, um, you requested I meet with you, Sir," Marco finally got out. He watched as Ted recomposed himself and strode up to his desk; his skinny frame should have made his walk gangly, but Ted walked with assurance and confidence in his stride, much unlike Marco's downtrodden gait.

"Come," Ted said with his back turned. Marco took an uneasy step over to where Professor Cruz was hovering, flipping through some documents that lay spewed across the smooth wooden surface of his desk.

Marco waited, listening to the sound of shuffling papers for what seemed like hours before Ted beckoned him closer.

"Now," he said, his firm voice breaking the thick silence that had set over them.

"I don't normally do this, actually- I never do this. Have never done this. Ever."

Marco stared. Ted continued.

"I- Mr. Rubio," he started, "I want you to tell me what your problem is."

"My... problem? Sir, I don't understand-"

"I've read your file. Pretty basic, standard as student profiles go. "

Marco had no idea what he was getting at, and, if he was to be quite honest with himself, he was getting a little irritated. Who was the professor to talk to him like that, with that tone of voice, as if he thought Marco was some type of lesser being because of his "average" academic career. So what? He didn't get accepted into top Ivy League schools like Professor Cruz surely did, but that didn't mean he wasn't bright. It was just-

"Look," Marco said abruptly, cutting Ted off from whatever he was rambling about, Marco had stopped listening.

"I know I'm not the smartest kid, I've never tried to be nor would I want to be. I know that I'm failing this class and am probably going to be expelled. You've read my file, you know my situation. But if you're just going to stand there, shuffling what must be the typed up letter of my dismissal, than I rather get this over with-"

"I'm not going to expel you, Marco."

"because- wh- you're not?" Marco suddenly stopped. He hadn't realized that he had moved closer to the professor's desk in his anger; he was now standing mere inches away from Cruz. They were nearly the same height, with Ted having maybe one inch on him, but standing there, so close to him like this, Marco felt very small despite Ted being the slighter man.

They looked at each other and Marco felt his face growing warm, a blushing shade of light pink spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

"I- I-" Marco didn't know what to say. God, was he embarrassed. He wouldn't protest it if Ted expelled him right then and there for his juvenile outburst.

"It's alright," Ted said, his firm voice, which Marco was used to letting roll over his ears during class, had dropped to a soft tone, maybe even, reassuring, if Marco was hearing correctly. Ted reached out a hand, lightly guiding Marco into the plastic chair beside the desk, Ted himself taking a seat in his leather back desk chair and spinning it around so he could face Marco.

Marco resisted the urge to let his head drop down in shame, the slimmest bit of pride preventing him from making himself appear even more childish to the professor. It was a misunderstanding, he shouldn't be ashamed. Then why were his hands feeling clammy again? He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his collar felt too tight, too restrictive, he was in desperate need of a water bottle. The warmth was dizzying and making him slightly lightheaded, the focus on his abnormally elevated body temperature had distracted him and prevented him from hearing what the professor just finished saying.

"-Do you understand now Marco?"

"Daa- d- do I?" he choked out. He glanced up to see Professor Cruz looking curiously at him, he almost seemed, concerned?

"I think you do," Ted replied in that same soft tone. Marco looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"I'm just, school has never interested me, professor. It's not that I don't want to learn, I do! But the classes I was forced to take were dull, my teachers subpar, and the administration really didn't do anything to help me out either as long as I maintained a low C and wasn't subject to academic probation, which, in that case, would mean I wouldn't be able to play on the football team, and as one of the star athletes well, I think that was all that they cared about. And I know that I probably sound like I'm making excuses for myself and I'm not! I just, wanted to clarify this..." he trailed off, realizing that he was babbling now.

After a pause he whispered, "Maybe I'm just not fit out for college."

Marco was startled when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Don't you ever say that, alright? Do you hear me? I don't ever want to hear you utter those words again."

Marco nodded, surprised by the professor's sudden declaration. The older man's hand lay on his shoulder for a moment after he finished speaking, his fingers long and slender, tightly grasping the broad plane of his shoulder. When he finally extracted the hand, it was as though a familiar presence had lifted, causing him to feel the missing weight that had rested there a second ago.

They looked at each other for a moment before Ted spun around, returning to the papers he had been sorting through earlier. He rearranged them into some type of order before turning and handing them to Marco who took them with a timid hold.

"I've arranged a schedule, taking into account my availability, not including office hours, as well as what I've been advised is your typical daily schedule. Here-" he gestured to a column on the left which was void of any numbers or words, "this is where you will pen in the amount of time you allocated to reviewing the material we discuss each day. I've divided the schedule up by subject matter and into subunits based on topics within said subject, a method I believe will prove to be extremely beneficial-"

"Wait, I'm sorry, Sir, I don't understand," he'd felt clueless ever since he first stepped into the professors room if he was to be honest.

"Are you offering to, be my tutor?"

Ted looked at him with a raised eyebrow as if the answer was obvious.

"Yes? Isn't that what I just finished saying only moments ago. Really, Marco, you'll have to step up just a tad with your listening skills in order for this to work."

"B-but why? Why are you wasting your time on me?" Marco felt all his childhood insecurities rising up to the forefront of his brain again, being told he wasn't good enough by his teachers, jokingly called slow for his difficulties learning English as a boy and his messy penmanship. His parents had always reassured him that he was special, that he had gifts no one else had. But just about anyone could swing a decent throw or run after a ball, and if football was his only so-called "talent," then perhaps he had no true merit about him. It was silly to still be clinging to his youthful worries, but he couldn't help it, they followed him around like the plague, always whispering sweet nothings it his ear, telling him it would be easier if he just gave up, if he just stopped trying all together. To think that Professor Cruz of all people would be willing to help him, well, that was just more than he could handle.

Marco listened in silence as Cruz proceeded to carry on with his explanation. When he finished, he made to stand, Marco following suit.

"So, I'll see you back here tomorrow afternoon, same time as today. Don't be late." His voice had long since returned to that firm drawl Marco was so used to, but a softness remained in his eyes as he bid Marco goodbye.

* * *

 

Marco entered the classroom the next day at the same time to see the professor huddled over a mass of papers, apparently reading them intently , his silver wire-framed glasses, which Marco was certain he had never worn before, had slipped down to the center of his pointed nose. Marco was hesitant to disturb the man, he looked so peaceful, sitting there, his face so close to the document his nose was nearly touching the paper itself.

There was something strange about seeing the professor relaxed like this, his stern persona which he paraded about during class was cast to the wind. He looked so consumed in his work, intently studying whatever it was he had on his desk. The Lord only knows seeing as his desk was an utter mess of books with tagged pages and scattered papers laying in precarious stacks in all four corners, but the professor seemed to be able to work through the chaos just fine. Marco didn't want to alert him to his presence, seeing as he was engrossed in his reading, but also because there was something about the way Professor Cruz appeared so tranquil that Marco didn't want to ruin the scene.

Alas, the professor had requested Marco to be there specifically at a certain time and he was going to try his best to not disappoint Cruz further in the hopes that staying in his good graces would help him pass the class.

He dragged his eyes from his current line of sight, absentmindedly studying the sharp curve of Cruz's jaw bone as it blended into his neck, noticing the light dusting of hair that lay on the back of his neck.

 _He could probably use a haircut_ , Marco considered, the stray thought slipping into his mind without him truly thinking about it. _Or perhaps not,_ another part of his mind countered, and he suddenly wondered what it would feel like to slip his hands into the professor's hair, to feel the thick strands glide through his fingers, to nuzzle his nose into that light dusting of growth-

"Oh, Mr. Rubio, I didn't realize you were standing there."

Marco jolted at the sound of the voice addressing him. He'd been lost in his thoughts and hadn't seen the professor turn to face him.

"Uhh, I mean, yes, I'm here," he said, mentally berating himself for his stupid reply. _Of course he knows you're here, he's talking to you right now._

Marco walked over to the professor's desk, taking up the chair he had sat in the previous day as Ted brought out a textbook and a stack of blank lined paper. His first lesson had officially begun.

* * *

 

Days passed, and Marco was finding himself becoming more and more relaxed in Professor Cruz's presence. No longer did he step into the classroom with timidity characterizing his stride, gone was his shy demeanor when talking to the other man. He had unconsciously allowed himself to start opening up to Cruz, explaining to him the problematic occurrences that littered his high school career, his fights with the administration and teachers, his lack of social support outside of his parents, that one time he accidentally punched another kid for making fun of his accent, everything and anything, and Ted would simply listen until Marco finished his tirade.

Somehow, without realizing it, he began staying with the professor later than he had intended to. After their sessions, rather than pack up his books and go, Marco and Ted would discuss a whole range of topics, from his childhood insecurities which still lingered to this day, to the state of affairs regarding America's domestic policy. It was invigorating to share his stories and beliefs with an outsider, someone who wasn't around to see mediocre adolescence or judge him for something that he said three years ago. Despite what Marco initially thought, Cruz was a clean slate, he held no notions of Marco outside what Marco let him see, he didn't judge based on comments from other teachers or students. Being with Professor Cruz was refreshing and strangely soothing. He would walk out of the professor's room with a lightness to his step and a calmness washing over his heart.

 And without realizing it, Marco had begun to fall completely head over booted heels for his professor.

The realization came upon him like a ton of bricks as he sat on a small desk opposite Cruz's desk, watching as the professor placed his palms flat on the dark wooden surface whilst talking about one thing or another. The desk was a heavy and imposing structure, firmly grounded into the floor. Gazing at his professor, Marco absentmindedly wondered what it would feel like to fuck Professor Cruz atop that desk. Would the desk shake as he pounded into the other man? Would the walls be solid enough to muffle the screams Cruz would surely make as Marco fucked him harder, deeper, leaving red marks on his sides and indentations on his thighs as the edge of the desk dug into his skin.

Marco swallowed, that familiar blush coming up over his skin. The clammy hands, sweaty face, and frequent embarrassment, it all made sense now. Marco risked glancing up at Cruz from his vantage point across from the other man. Cruz wasn't conventionally attractive, his lean frame looked like it would snap in half if Marco was to bend him over, he had weirdly long and skinny fingers ~~which Marco wanted shoved up his ass~~ , and a nose that was permanently crooked as if someone punched him square in the face.

He was beautiful and Marco wanted to know if his cheeks were really as smooth as they looked, he wanted to kiss his thin lips until they bruised and then kiss them some more, he wanted Cruz to be the one sweating as Marco sucked his-

"Marco, are you even listening to me?"

"Uh, yeah, I mean, yes. Yes, I am."

Ted huffed, a knowing smile on his face. "Are you really? What was the last thing I said?"

"Ahh, that, Obama knows exactly what he's doing?"

"No, Marco. That's what you said an hour ago when you were actually paying attention."

Ted turned his head to the right, noting the darkness that had settled over the school grounds outside his classroom window.

"Alright, you must be getting tired. I hadn't realized how late it had gotten." He turned his head back to look at Marco who was still sitting on the desktop, dangling his legs like a child and staring up at Ted with wide eyes.

Ted took him in, the way his gently eyes looked up at him, so trusting and appreciative, the way his button-up shirt bunched up when he hunched over, his palms splayed flat out on his knees. Ted couldn't help but smile.

"I guess I should be going," Marco said, his words trailing off at the end. He didn't want to go. Spending time with Professor Cruz, with Ted as the man insisted he be called, was honestly the highlight of his day. How he waited until the afternoon, until he could walk through those classroom doors and not be afraid of judgment or humiliation. Being with Ted was different from anyone else Marco ever interacted with. There was a peculiar air about the man, he knew he was smart, and he never shied away from displaying his intellect during class discussions or lectures, but there was a certain degree of restraint in his mannerisms, as if he was holding back from something. But in private, those limitations were absent. Ted was still stern in his teachings, but he was kind and funny too, in a way that he didn't show during class. Perhaps Ted was himself afraid, like Marco was, afraid of what others said about him and afraid of not being liked, of being an outcast, a freak. Those fears were ones that Marco was forced to endure throughout most of his life, and they played right into his other insecurities, causing him to constantly hold himself back to the point that he didn't even bother to try anymore. But with Ted, it wasn't like that. Like Ted, charming, clever, and attractive Ted, it was different.

Marco stared at his professor as the other man stared back. Marco couldn't tell what he was looking at exactly but his gaze was nearly penetrating and Marco couldn't stand it anymore. Grades be damned, he hopped off the desk and in two quick strides, made his way over to the professor, grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him in for a hard kiss.

His conscious brain activated a moment later and Marco pulled away, abruptly dropping his hands to his sides and taking a step back.

"Holy- I, I didn't mean to- I- professor-" he stuttered out frantically, trying to find the right words to apologize for what he just did.

Ted stepped forward as Marco stepped back, reaching out to land his hand on the younger man's shoulder. He brought his other hand to Marco's face, fingers gently brushing his chin and lifting it up ever so slightly as tears brimmed around Marco's eyes.

"It's alright," he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible. He pressed forward, the hand that was on Marco's chin moving to lay at the nap of his neck while his other hand made to wrap around Marco's waist. Ted leaned in and kissed Marco's trembling lips with a softness Marco didn't know was physically possible. The kiss lasted longer than the first, their mouths moving against each other's with a tantalizing slowness once Marco got over his initial fear.

When they finally broke apart, Ted still held Marco close, a devious smirk set on his face as he backed them both up until Marco could fell a solid presence behind him.

"While I admit, I am both equally shocked and thrilled at this revelation, I must say, it was a reckless act of disobedience on your part, Marco."

Marco could feel the push of Ted's knee as it wormed it's way between his legs, spreading them further apart. Ted's hands were on his waist and then they were lifting him up. Marco squeaked at the unexpected movement, as Ted sat him down on top of his desk.

Ted wasted no time, his hands moving down to Marco's jeans, fingers loosening his belt and slipping the leather band off from around his waist. Ted placed a single hand on Marco's chest, easing him backwards until his back was flush against the cool tabletop.

A beat later and Ted's lips were on his neck, his hands pulling at his collar.

"It was-" a pause while he laid kisses up to Marco's ear, "so...reckless of you."

He sucked on the fleshy part of Marco's ear, pulling the elastic skin between his teeth and then trailing down to lay kisses on his jaw line.

"You understand..." a kiss to Marco's Adam's apple, "that..." down to his collar bone, his shirt having been opened, "you're going to have to be..." cold fingers were touching his sides, Ted licking a strip down his chest, "punished," his mouth was on Marco's nipple and all he could do was whine as Ted's tongue swirled circles around the sensitive flesh.

Ted's mouth continued downward, descending to attend to Marco's rising problem. Marco heard the sound Ted's zipper being pulled down, of a drawer opening and the sound of thick liquid being rubbed into two hands. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as Ted proceeded to carry on with the act. His thoughts about the desk earlier came back to him and he couldn't suppress a chuckle as his original idea had been flipped. Well, at least he could confirm that the desk was sturdy.


End file.
